


come fly with me (let's fly, let's fly away)

by elizaham8957



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, F/M, Fluff, Humor, based on that tweet thread that went viral about the two people on plane, enjoy this mess y'all, everyone is human and alive au!, hashtag planebae amirite, written for stydiaweek 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 12:44:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15340122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizaham8957/pseuds/elizaham8957
Summary: “I am not switching seats,” Stiles says again, the three of them walking down the hall to board the plane. Over the loudspeakers, a voice informs them that the last group for flight 487 from Logan Airport to LAX may now board. “Nope. No way. Absolutely not.” Scott and Allison just glance at each other, Allison arching her eyebrow in amusement.Five minutes later, Scott and Allison are seated next to each other, and Stiles is standing in front of them in Allison’s recently-purchased middle seat, turned backwards to face his friends.“You two are the worst,” Stiles grumbles. Scott and Allison just smile at each other.





	come fly with me (let's fly, let's fly away)

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Stydiaweek 2018 (again!) Look at me, posting something TWO DAYS in a row! I am on a ROLL, guys. This was written for day 5: AU and is based on that twitter thread about the strangers on the plane, and I just want it to be known that I wrote this BEFORE that whole story took a very dark turn, so. This version is less privacy-invasion-y than the original one, so that's good, I guess? 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy this! I'd love to know what you think, and I'm stilesssolo on tumblr and twitter if you wanna chat about our lovely otp!

In retrospect, Stiles really should have been  _ thanking  _ them. 

That is certainly  _ not  _ what he is doing now, his expression more than exasperated as his eyes dart between Scott and Allison. “Come on, Stiles,” Scott begs, his eyebrows pulling together, and Stiles shakes his head, his hands flailing in outrage. That shouldn’t be a thing, Scott thinks— outraged flailing, that is— but he’s known Stiles long enough to accept that with his best friend, there is a type of flailing for  _ everything.  _

“No, Scotty, don’t you  _ dare,”  _ Stiles argues. “Do  _ not  _ pull the puppy dog eyes on me. They  _ will not work.”  _

“Please, Stiles,” Allison says, taking Scott’s hand. He glances over at his girlfriend quickly, seeing that she is giving Stiles the same pleading expression. 

“Stop it!” Stiles says, shaking his head vehemently. “I am  _ not  _ giving up my seat so you two can sit together on the flight home!” 

“But—” Scott begins, but Stiles is having  _ none  _ of it, throwing his hands up in the air. 

“No! Allison, you crashed this trip in the first place. It is your  _ own fault  _ your seat isn’t with ours. And I want my aisle seat!” 

“Her seat is right in front of ours, Stiles,” Scott insists. “You’ll still be with us.”

“I will be sitting next to a  _ stranger,  _ Scott,” Stiles says, as if this is the most appalling thought. The line to board the plane moves forward, the group in front of them walking past the gate.  “Not even one stranger, because it’s a middle seat.  _ Two  _ strangers. For  _ six whole hours.”  _

“You’re being dramatic,” Scott says, handing the people at the gate his boarding pass. They smile as they hand him his ticket back, Allison offering hers up next. 

“I am  _ not  _ switching seats,” Stiles says again, the three of them walking down the hall to board the plane. Over the loudspeakers, a voice informs them that the last group for flight 487 from Logan Airport to LAX may now board. “Nope. No way. Absolutely not.” Scott and Allison just glance at each other, Allison arching her eyebrow in amusement. 

Five minutes later, Scott and Allison are seated next to each other, and Stiles is standing in front of them in Allison’s recently-purchased middle seat, turned backwards to face his friends.

“You two are the worst,” Stiles grumbles, letting a guy squeeze past him to the window seat. 

“Thank you, Stiles,” Scott says, his voice sincere, but Stiles just shakes his head, eyebrows scrunched together. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I can see who your priorities  _ really  _ lie with, Scotty. And I am  _ wounded  _ it’s with Allison over me.” 

Scott just rolls his eyes goodnaturedly, because he knows his best friend is kidding. Sure, he loves Allison, but Stiles is his  _ brother.  _ Nothing could ever come close to threatening the bond between the two of them. 

“Who knows, Stiles,” Allison says, lifting her head off of Scott’s shoulder. “Maybe your soulmate will end up sitting next to you.” 

“Very funny, Allison,” Stiles says, narrowing his eyes. “Scott’s already sitting next to you.” The two of them laugh at that, and Stiles sighs, shoving his backpack underneath the seat in front of him. 

“Whatever,” he amends, looking up at the two of them again. “When we get back home, you two owe me a  _ really  _ nice dinner. Or a trip to Disneyland. Or some priceless Star Wars merchandise.” 

Scott is about to open his mouth to respond, but he gets cut off by the arrival of a woman, her lips pursed and one perfect eyebrow arched at Stiles. 

“Sorry, this is my seat,” she says, nodding towards the empty aisle seat next to him, but her tone conveys that she’s not actually that sorry. 

Scott’s jaw drops, and Allison squeezes his hand, looking at her boyfriend gleefully. Stiles just flails. 

The girl is absolutely  _ gorgeous. _

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Stiles says, trying to contain his limbs to the bounds of his seat. The girl just raises an eyebrow at him, before leaning over to put her carry on in the overhead compartment. As soon as she’s not looking at them, Stiles makes the most  _ exaggerated  _ face Scott’s ever seen, mouthing in outrage to his best friend,  _ “seriously?!”  _

Allison just shrugs, smirking as she mouths back,  _ “You’re welcome.”  _ Stiles shakes his head darkly at both of them, turning around to finally take his seat as the girl next to him sits down in hers, her bag stowed overhead. 

She is  _ beautiful,  _ Scott can’t help but think, and he’s in a very loving and committed relationship with the brunette leaning on his shoulder at the moment. She looks  _ way  _ too put together for being on a plane, wearing a cute flowered blouse and a skirt, and Scott is pretty sure he saw that she was in heels before she sat down. Her skin is paler than Stiles’s, which is a feat in and of itself, her face like porcelain, makeup flawlessly done. She has long, strawberry blonde waves that hang down her back perfectly, a few pieces swept to the side and pinned to keep them out of her face. 

Scott can tell that Stiles is probably about ready to die in the seat in front of them. 

His assumptions are confirmed when Stiles texts him a minute later, as the flight attendants walk down the aisle to close all the overhead compartments, getting the plane ready for takeoff. 

_ The girl sitting next to me is a freakin’ SUPERMODEL, Scott. I can’t do this. I am DEFINITELY going to find a way to make a complete fool of myself. Make Allison switch back with me. _

Scott sighs, trying to bite back his laughter, because Stiles can definitely hear him. Instead he responds:  _ if you make Allison switch back with you now, you’re just going to look more weird.  _

Stiles’s response is almost instantaneous.  _ You suck. This flight is going to be the death of me. I want it written on my tombstone that my cause of death was because you and Allison were incapable of being physically separated for six hours.  _

_ You’re being dramatic,  _ Scott texts back.  _ She’s just a person. You could just talk to her.  _

_ Yes, that is a fantastic idea, Scotty. I’ll just talk to possibly the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on in my LIFE. That will DEFINITELY go well.  _

_ Well, what are you planning on doing instead?  _ Scott asks. 

_ Keeping my limbs within the confines of my seat and pretending I am both deaf and mute,  _ Stiles responds instantaneously. Scott can’t help but laugh at that one, before Allison nudges him gently, nodding towards his phone. 

“We’re starting to taxi,” she says, leaning into his arm. “You have to turn off your phone.” 

_ Sorry man, you’re on your own,  _ Scott sends to Stiles, powering his phone down before he can see his best friend’s response, the flight attendants hurrying down the aisle to check that everyone’s electronics are powered off as the plane taxis towards the runway. 

Scott sort of forgets about Stiles’s woes as the plane takes off, Allison playing with his hand in his lap. It’s late, and he’s tired, and the plane lights were dimmed during takeoff, so he doesn’t even realize he had fallen asleep until Allison is nudging him gently, whispering his name urgently. 

_ “Scott,”  _ she hisses, giving him another subtle shove to the shoulder. He blinks his eyes blearily, looking over towards his girlfriend. She has this look in her eyes, a mix of satisfaction and complete  _ amazement.  _

“Stiles is  _ talking  _ to that girl,” she hisses, keeping her voice low. Scott can feel his eyebrows raise exponentially, his head whipping towards the crack in the seats in front of them, and sure enough, he can see the tiniest sliver of Stiles, turned towards the girl next to him and deep in conversation, his expression totally captivated by whatever his seatmate is saying. 

“What?” Scott says, immediately sitting up, all hints of residual sleepiness gone. “What are they talking about?” 

“I don’t know,” Allison admits, pulling a face. “They’re talking so quietly I can’t hear them, with the noise of the plane.” Scott nods, because the humming of the engine does make it difficult to make out anything that his best friend is saying to the girl next to him. 

“Can you hear anything?” Allison asks, and Scott concentrates, trying to focus on just the sound of Stiles’s voice, not the background noise of the airplane. He catches a few words, but nothing substantial. 

“Not really,” he admits, and Allison makes a face. “Wait— maybe something about research?” He shakes his head, straining to hear again. “That doesn’t make any sense, though.” 

They spend another few minutes struggling to hear  _ anything  _ Stiles is saying to the mystery girl before she suddenly stands up, and the two of them spring back into their seats, pretending like they weren’t totally eavesdropping on her conversation with their best friend. She doesn’t seem to notice them, turning and walking down the aisle of the plane towards the bathroom without a second glance to the people behind her. 

Stiles, however, is a different story. 

“Do you think you guys could  _ not  _ eavesdrop on my conversation, or is it impossible for you to mind your own business?” he asks, turning around in his seat the  _ second  _ the girl has disappeared, his scrunched eyebrows appearing through the crack in the seats. 

“Oh, save it,” Allison says. “You’re  _ talking  _ to mystery girl!” 

“Her name is Lydia, thank you,” Stiles responds. 

“And?” Scott prompts, gesturing for his best friend to continue. 

“And I’m pretty sure I’m in love with her,” Stiles finishes matter-of-factly. 

“Enough with the sarcasm, Stilinski,” Allison says, rolling her eyes. “Tell us about her!” 

“I wasn’t being sarcastic,” Stiles retorts, but he answers her anyways. “She also lives in California and is literally a genius. She graduated from MIT in two years, has a PhD in advanced mathematics, and is part of a team at Stanford that is working to solve the Riemann hypothesis.” 

“I  _ knew  _ I heard them say something about research!” Scott says, turning to Allison, and she smiles at him affectionately. “What is the Riemann hypothesis?” he asks Stiles. 

“That is  _ such  _ a good question,” Stiles answers. “I have absolutely no idea.” He pauses, pulling a face. “Something about zeros? Non-trivial zeros, I think? I don’t know. She was trying to explain it to me, but I have no idea how math works. She’s sending me a TED talk on it that she did when we land.” 

“She’s  _ sending  _ you something?” Scott asks at the same time that Allison goes,  _ “She  _ did a TED talk?” with wide eyes. Allison glances over at Scott, her expression apologetic for speaking over him, but he shakes his head, gesturing for her to continue. 

“So, not only is this girl absolutely  _ gorgeous,  _ she is also, like, a well-known genius?” she asks, turning back to Stiles. 

“Yes, that is what I’m trying to tell you,” Stiles says, hands flailing. Scott watches as his girlfriend just shakes his head, fixing Stiles with a smirk. 

“This girl is  _ so  _ out of  your league, Stiles.” 

_ “Thank  _ you, Allison, I am well aware of that,” he says, shooting her a look. “Yet  _ somehow,  _ she seems to enjoy talking to me, so. Stop eavesdropping on my conversation, before you creep her out.” 

“So basically, what I’m getting from this,” Scott says, “is that you owe us for making you change seats.” Stiles’s eyes light up in fury as he points an accusatory finger between the two seats. 

“You are  _ so  _ not forgiven for that, okay?” Stiles says. “Even with this. When we get off this plane, I swear to god—” 

Stiles looks like he’s about to launch into a very angry rant that Scott and Allison have already heard today, but just as he opens his mouth again, Allison’s eyes go wide, and she hits her boyfriend’s arm. 

“She’s coming back!” Allison hisses, and Stiles whips around in his seat, Scott and Allison trying to, once again, remain nonchalant. The girl— Lydia, Scott remembers— only glances at them briefly before she takes her seat again, smoothing her hair over her shoulder as she does. 

“Is it just me,” Allison whispers to Scott, her voice so low that he has to read her lips to really know what she’s saying, “or is Lydia wearing  _ lipstick  _ now?” 

“Is she?” Scott asks excitedly, his voice equally as hushed. Allison quirks an eyebrow at him, her eyes darting back to the gap in the seats in front of them. 

“She  _ definitely  _ is,” Allison confirms, smiling gleefully. They can see Lydia smile warmly at Stiles, the two of them already lost in conversation again.

“Okay, shh, we have to try to hear what they’re saying.” 

“I wasn’t talking, Allison.” 

“I know, but—” 

“Wait, she’s saying something! What is she saying?” 

Stiles can  _ clearly  _ tell that they’re trying to listen in on his conversation, because he and Lydia are speaking  _ so  _ quietly, although Scott can tell that they’re both equally invested what the other is saying. Their shoulders are pressed against each other, both of them sharing the arm rest between them like they have absolutely no regard for personal space. Scott and Allison spend probably a disproportionate amount of the flight trying to hear their conversations, their ears straining to catch even isolated words. 

“Did she just say ‘dog?’” Scott asks, squinting at Allison. Her brow is furrowed in concentration, and she shakes her head, lips pursed. 

“I thought she said ‘mom,’” Allison says. “What are they doing?” 

Scott focuses on the gap between the seats before him, trying to get a clear image of what’s going on. “I think she’s showing him family photos,” Scott confirms, and Allison’s eyebrows arch up towards the sky, her grin gleeful. 

The two of them try to eavesdrop on Stiles and Lydia’s conversation, but it  _ is  _ hard to hear anything, and it  _ is  _ an overnight flight. They both grin like maniacs when the drink cart comes by and Stiles pays for her soda for her, and Scott’s pretty sure his hand is permanently bruised from when Allison squeezed it when Stiles offered to split his Reese’s with her. (“He doesn’t even share his Reese’s with  _ you,”  _ Allison had pointed out, to which Scott had nodded emphatically.) Eventually, though, they sort of give up, and Scott lets the white noise of the jet engines and the warmth of Allison’s body pressed against his lull him off to sleep. 

When he wakes up a few hours later, the stewardesses are going up and down the aisles collecting trash, preparing the plane for descent. He glances at his phone quick— it’s almost five in the morning; still dark in LA, but morning nonetheless. 

His eyes drift to the crack in the seat in front of him almost absentmindedly, but he can’t help the smile that stretches slowly across his face at the sight he sees— both Lydia and Stiles are asleep as well, Lydia’s head resting against Stiles’s shoulder, her hair cascading over his friend’s arm. Stiles’s head rests against hers, his cheek resting on her hair, and Scott takes a quick picture of the two of them on his phone quickly, before gently shaking Allison awake. 

“Hmm?” she mumbles, rubbing at her eyes. Scott leans over to kiss her forehead tenderly, smoothing her hair out of her face. 

“We’re gonna land soon,” he tells her, smiling gently at his girlfriend. “But look.”

Allison’s line of sight follows his pointed finger, her sleepy eyes widening at the sight of Stiles and Lydia. “Oh my god,” she says, her lips tugging into a smile. “That is adorable.” 

“He totally owes us for this,” Scott says, and Allison nods emphatically. 

“Oh,  _ definitely.”  _

The plane lands not that long after, the barest beginnings of morning sunlight filtering over the California mountains that they can now see from the plane window. Allison packs up her carry on bag again before Scott slings it over his shoulder, the two of them holding hands as they wait for the front of the plane to empty so they can get off. 

Now that they’re standing, Scott finally has a clear, unobstructed view of the couple in  front of them. Lydia smooths her long curls back, looking at Stiles with the  _ softest  _ smile, wide green eyes fixed right on his. Stiles recognizes the look on his best friend’s face as well— even if Stiles hadn’t said anything, he would know that he was smitten. 

When it’s finally their turn to get off the plane, Stiles grabs Lydia’s bag for her from the overhead compartment, before stepping to the side, letting her into the aisle and off the plane before him. Scott and Allison file out behind them, and Scott reaches forward, clutching Stiles’s shoulder in congratulations. He knows that even if Stiles can’t  _ see  _ the enormous grin on his face right now, he’ll know it’s there. 

“You’re not helping, Scotty,” Stiles hisses, swatting Scott’s hand away with the barest glance backwards. Scott just laughs, taking Allison’s hand as they all exit the plane. 

They hover behind the two of them as they enter the terminal in LAX, Stiles and Lydia walking  _ unusually  _ close to each other for two people who were just forced into each others’ personal space on an airplane. 

Scott notices that Allison has snapchat open on her phone in about four seconds, a grin tugging at her lips in a manner that Scott has come to recognize as  _ scheming.  _

“What are you doing?” Scott whispers as she snaps a picture of Stiles and Lydia, hands brushing each others’ as they navigate the terminal, headed for the baggage claim. 

“Sending photographic proof that Stiles fell in love with a girl on an overnight flight,” Allison responds, adding a caption on top of it that’s too tiny for Scott to read. Seconds later, his phone buzzes with the notification:  _ one new snapchat from Allison.  _ He laughs as he reads her caption, which is basically just a string of emojis, including the side eyes one and the smiley with the devil horns. 

“Who’d you send this to?” Scott asks, meeting his girlfriend’s eye. She smirks, glancing back down at her phone. 

“Pretty much everyone we know. Isaac says give that girl his condolences.” 

They finally reach the baggage claim, Scott and Allison coming to a halt behind Stiles and Lydia, giving them room, because they’re  _ still  _ talking. Scott watches them in amazement as the baggage begins to come down the ramp to the carousel, still amused by the look of wonder and captivation that has come over his friend’s face. Lydia smiles back at him, smoothing her hair over her shoulder as she glances up at him through her lashes, and Scott is pretty sure that if he had supernatural hearing, he would be able to hear Stiles’s heart beating out of his chest. 

Unable to resist, he pulls his phone out of his pocket, opening up his text messages with his best friend.  _ So, when’s the wedding?  _ he types, adding a laughing emoji at the end for good measure. 

Stiles’s response is more delayed than they were at the beginning of the flight, as he tears his eyes away from Lydia to glance at his phone. Scott can’t help but laugh when his friend’s expression crumples into aggravation, his expression dark as he types out a response. 

Just as his response comes through, Lydia must ask Stiles what’s wrong, because he glances back at her, his eyes softening, mouth tugging up into that little smile that Scott hasn’t seen grace his friend’s face in  _ so  _ long. 

_ Shut up, Scotty,  _ his phone reads. 

_ Did you at least get her number?  _

There’s a delay before his response again, but Scott finally gets it.  _ Oh yeah. We’re getting coffee downtown on Saturday. When we’re both decidedly less jetlagged.  _

Scott can’t bite back the grin that’s overtaking his face, nudging Allison, who’s on the lookout for their luggage, and showing her the text message. Her eyes go wide upon reading the words, and she takes Scott’s phone, typing out a response for him. 

_ So basically what you’re saying is the reason you met this girl is ALL because of us. You owe us one, Stilinski.  _ She grins as she hits send, before handing Scott his phone back. 

The second the text message goes through, they can practically  _ see  _ the steam pouring from Stiles’s ears, both Scott and Allison cracking up as he whirls around, flipping the two of them off passionately. Allison doubles over with laughter, Scott bracing one hand on her back, tears in his eyes at the look of outrage on his best friend’s face. 

“Is everything okay?” Lydia asks Stiles, turning around to see what he’s looking at with such animosity. “Who are those people?” 

“Oh, no one,” Stiles says, raising his voice so that Scott and Allison can hear how pissed he is at the insinuation that they did him a favor. Which, really, they  _ did.  _ “I don’t know them. Just some random assholes. Don’t talk to them,” he adds, fixing Scott with another glare. Lydia just looks  _ supremely  _ confused, but Allison straightens up, smiling widely and giving her a friendly wave. Scott smiles back too, but Lydia just looks more perplexed. 

“You’re welcome!” Scott offers again, nodding at his best friend, who finally gives up, turning back around, looking down at Lydia again. He rolls his eyes goodnaturedly as he explains something to her in quieter tones— probably who the random people he flipped off are. At least, Scott would hope that’s what he’s doing. She seems to accept his explanation, laughing a little bit at him, and the look on Stiles’s face when Lydia lays a hand on his arm, soft and tender and  _ completely  _ head over heels, is enough to make him smile again. 

Yeah. Stiles  _ definitely  _ owes them for this one. 


End file.
